


Figure It Out

by Meowser_Clancy



Series: Assorted Jimel AUs [6]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grocery Store AU #1: Melinda is a cashier; Jim is the store manager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is number one, lol. I plan to write a *different* GW grocery store AU; in that one, Jim will be the new hire. It's one of the cases of 'art imitates life'. I got hired at a grocery store and I need some way to get all of the feelings out of my system. 
> 
> *This* one with Melinda as the cashier should only be a few chapters long; the one with Jim as the new hire (which I haven't written yet at all) will be full length.

She liked her job.

Or at least she could pretend she did. The customers were, for the most part, friendly. If she made a mistake, it was never a big deal; Andrea or Delia was always close by to help her correct something.

Working as a cashier, even with the knowledge that she had a degree in business and could certainly be getting paid more than minimum wage, gave her fulfillment, more than an office job could.

She did have goals. She'd gotten the business degree so that she could eventually open her own antique store but college had ended without many opportunities or viable possibilities to do that, so she'd gone to the nearest Milton's and applied.

She remembered the first few weeks as a blur of three separate training occasions; a store walk and then two cashiering classes.

The store walk had been with the store manager, Jim.

Jim.

At the time, she'd only thought that he was competent, capable; open and friendly, as anyone who worked in customer/employee relations should be, but hadn't thought much of him.

Though she had noticed his blue eyes. He'd had very blue eyes; big hands, long legs. He'd smiled at her in reassurance and caught her arm when she tripped over a wire; but he'd also scolded her—and the rest of the group doing the store walk—when they hadn't properly greeted people.

So he was normal, what you'd expect.

She'd been working there for three weeks before she truly noticed him again; yes, they'd pass when she was going to the break room because his offices were upstairs by it, but there had never been more than a smile or a quick 'hello' exchanged between them.

And then of course she'd notice sometimes when he was just standing at the edge of the balcony overlooking the whole store, a place that one of the cashier's lightly called the captain's chair. "Jim's surveying his realm," she'd joked. "It's always reassuring for me to see him up there."

Up until now, Melinda had agreed.

Now it just felt nerve wracking after being scolded by him for something so silly. And it was something that the front end managers didn't even notice or care about, but when she'd been upstairs earlier on her break, he'd stopped her.

"Melinda?"

It had surprised her; he hadn't had to check her nametag at all, just called the word out as she passed his office. She remembered her heart pounding, not expecting the call at all, and swivelled on her foot, walking back and poking her head into his office.

"Yes, Jim?"

He'd made it clear that he was Jim to everyone, and never Mr. Clancy or Mr. Jim.

Just Jim.

Yet her voice still quavered a bit over the word. He was the boss. Of course it would. And Melinda was the person who could talk to customers all day, every day, but if you put her against someone in authority…

She just didn't fare well. She didn't like knowing that they had power over her. It changed the dynamics; she didn't like talking to people when it wasn't equal. At least with customers, they couldn't be checking out with her. So even if it felt like she was serving them, they were helpless without her; unless they went to the self checkout. So she held power over them; she could help with declined cards and messed up coupons and everything in between.

But Jim.

She had nothing on him.

"You didn't clock out on time yesterday," he said, looking at the computer in front of him. "And usually I wouldn't comment but I know that your register was closed on time, so that means we paid you for fifteen minutes you didn't work."

"I forgot," she said. "I was getting some necessities; I wasn't leaving the store and my mind wasn't on clocking out."

"Don't let it happen again," he said, not taking it personally at all; to be scolded and yet treated so carelessly was so incredibly jarring.

"Okay," she'd mumbled and he just nodded, waving her out.

And now he was there again, looking down at his realm.

She felt like he was watching her specifically.

She'd never felt like that before.

The store was getting busier and she was feeling a bit frantic; she had three customers in a row with shopping carts just packed to the utter brim, and Milton's was the kind of store where the cashier unloaded the cart, not the customer.

It was hell.

And her bagger had left her, at the busiest moment.

She was frantically trying to catch up, wondering where the front end managers were. This was the point where, if there were no baggers around, Delia or Andrea stepped in, helping her get it done, but there were a thousand items, it seemed, and her customer was a very harried mother who was chasing after her three year old.

She wasn't going to get help there.

And then Jim was there, and she hadn't even noticed him leave from his perch.

He was so tall, was the first thing that popped into her mind when he came down the stairs, long legs eating up the distance; she could see everyone's eyes dart to him because that was just the type of person Jim was; when he entered a room, everyone stared. They just did. He radiated power, even if 'just' a store manager; he radiated confidence and he was the kind of man who, though an alpha male, put everyone at ease instead of tensing them.

It was like everyone exhaled when he entered a room because they knew that he could take care of it.

Melinda felt her hands slow; he was catching the toddler and smiling at the mother and ushering her back to Melinda's lane.

And then he started bagging the order. His hands were huge; his arms were strong, he never hesitated on the heavier items. He was in a dress shirt and slacks and looking like he should be at a board meeting, but here he was, bagging a single mother's order, serving her needs, taking the time to make sure that she was doing well that day.

Taking the time to meet Melinda's eyes and smile, as if knowing that he'd rattled her.

"You make a good cashier," he said as the customer left, stepping around to stand behind her as the next customer came. "You've got those natural people skills." He was tapping the screen, logging her out. "But I think you need a break."

"I do," she admitted, scraping a stray hair back on her forehead. "But I already had my half hour."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. "Then bag," he said softly, logging into her system and greeting the next customer, raising an eyebrow at her as she didn't move.

His hands were big.

The thought was constant in her mind as she bagged, thankful that she didn't have to interact with the customers quite as much.

The way he picked up melons awed her; he almost never used two hands. And he almost never looked at the computer screen; even the best cashiers, she'd noticed, had a few Voids on an order from scanning an item twice; he never did.

And he never had to look up a code. He never had to double check if produce was by item or weight.

It awed her.

"When are you off today, Melinda?" He asked, glancing at her, and she expected his attention to turn back to the customer (a cardinal rule was that cashiers and baggers were to never exclude the customer) but he was looking at her, his back literally facing the next customer, dismissing them.

"Um," she said, because his eyes were blue and he was looking at her and waiting for her to reply. "At eight."

He was logging out, gesturing for her to go back to her place, and yet not moving out of the way; she moved to the computer and he was just standing there, smiling at the customer.

"How are you doing tonight, sir?" He asked, and placed a hand on her shoulder; lightly, not even really resting there. "Melinda is going to take care of you; she'll do a really good job so make sure that you ring her bell."

"Okay," the man said, a bit startled; Jim patted Melinda's shoulder and then he just left, as if the whole thing hadn't even happened, not looking behind him, smiling at every customer he saw; waving to a few cashiers.

She felt stunned and then she found herself just fitting herself back into the rhythm, feeling a genuine smile on her face for the next customer.

* * *

Life went on.

She got a raise; she wasn't sure if it was an automatic thing or if someone had actually chosen to give her one.

She saw Jim at odd intervals; he'd be on the phone sounding stressed, or helping others check out, and being a more regular presence.

And then one day her break was late, and a customer had literally yelled at her, and even if she was used to this job, and even she knew so well by now that people were just people and everyone had bad days...that everyone was entitled to bad days and good days and everything in between, that one woman had just turned her okay day into a very bad day.

And she hadn't been able to pick up her paycheck so she basically wouldn't be able to eat that week since they only handed out paychecks on Fridays, and she'd planned to go on her break, but now it was too late and the customer service desk was closed.

This was misery. And she had another three hours of work after her break.

She was going to have a nervous breakdown. She had paid the rent yesterday expecting to get paid today and now she literally did not have enough money in her account to buy a fucking candy bar.

There were tears streaming down her cheeks and she hated herself for showing that weakness; Melinda Gordon didn't cry. She just didn't.

Hopefully no one would be in the break room. That was all she could think as she opened the door, and then there was someone; Jim was taking a soda from the fridge and she didn't even know that he was still here; she wasn't sure when he usually left but it was usually before now.

"Hey," he said, immediately concerned. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, honestly," she said. "There was an angry customer, don't worry about it."

He smiled a little, watching as she curled up in the only arm chair, and then pulled out a chair from the table, swinging it around to sit on it backwards, like only guys could, like only guys got away with.

"If you need to vent, go ahead," he said. "I started as a bagger, and worked my way up the ranks. Believe me, I've heard it all, I've felt it all, I took up boxing because of this job."

She laughed a little, looking at the muscles in his arms. "Well, it was a good choice to start boxing, maybe I should," she said, looking at her arms.

"You should," he said. "But not because you need the workout, because you need the stress management. Exercise is a mood stabilizer; it's a lot healthier than the candy bars at the checkouts."

She flushed a little. "Exercise takes longer to do and is more expensive than one candy bar," she said.

"Sorry," Jim said. "I don't mean to criticize your methods, I really don't."

"I know," she said, voice soft, almost disappearing.

"What did the customer do?" He wondered. "Come on, just tell me, and you can include whatever names you want or need to call her. Just let it all out. Venting is so important."

"Her card was declined and she was very ferociously blaming me; she kept saying that her paycheck has been deposited today and that I was a stubborn…" Melinda's voice trailed off. "Bitch. And that I should discount her order and just let her have the groceries since she shops here every day."

Jim's eyes had narrowed. "Does she?"

"I don't think I've seen her before, but until today, she could have just been a face in the crowd," Melinda said. "I don't know, I probably shouldn't take it personally; everyone has off days."

"Not like that they don't," Jim said. "Getting angry, sure, Calling the cashier a bitch?" He was shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I honestly am."

"My break was late," she said, not sure why she was telling him this. "I was going to pick up my paycheck but now the customer service desk is closed." Her voice broke as she said the words. "I can't buy groceries this week and all I've got at home is tuna."

"When did you get here?" Jim asked, suddenly going into business mode, even though that honestly hadn't been her intention; she'd just needed to say the words and get it out there.

"At three," she said.

"And it's eight now," Jim said. "They let you go five hours without a break? That is actually against the law."

He was getting up, looking tall and powerful, holding out his hand to her.

"What? Oh, no, I don't want to get them in trouble," Melinda said. "They got busy, it's okay."

"No, it isn't," Jim said. "That's their job, Melinda. To manage the front end. To make sure that things like this don't happen. Who's working today? It's Delia and Tim, right?"

"No, please," Melinda said, tears of panic in her eyes; she was jumping up, placing a hand on his chest to physically stop him. "I won't say it's their fault; I could have asked. I would have asked but…"

"You shouldn't have to ask," he said. "And let me guess, they were never even around."

"They do a good job," Melinda said, voice faltering.

"They didn't today," he said. "Did either of them step in when you had that customer?"

"No, but Andrea was at the next register and she came over after the lady called me a bitch," Melinda said.

"This isn't okay," Jim said, quite honestly. "It's not."

"Well, it's only happened once," she said.

"Come with me," Jim said, forestalling her protests. "Melinda. We're just going to get you your paycheck, alright? I'll hold off on yelling at Delia and Tim."

She nodded, finding herself following him down the stairs; as always, his long legs ate up the distance, leaving her scrambling to keep up; he was ducking behind the counter of the customer service desk and grabbing a key from around his neck that had been under his shirt; she had a sudden thought that it must be warm from his body heat and that made her flush.

"First three digits of your social?" He asked, but was shaking his head, opening the drawer. "Never mind, here it is." He looked up at her, blue eyes piercing. "The bank is closed too, isn't it?"

"I can deposit it on my phone," she began, voice small.

"Okay," Jim said, standing down, going back to his calmer self. "Hey, you know what, just use the intercom next time you need a break."

"I don't know how to use it," Melinda said. "And yes, they've taught me but every single time I try…."

He sighed, shaking his head. "It took me a couple of tries too," he told her. "It's okay, Mel. So come on, we're going to practice."

"No," she said. "I don't have time left on my break."

"Then you're going to do it on your work," he said. "I am going to go to the back of the store. You are going to page me." He smiled at her, eyes piercing. "Got that?"

He had already started walking.

"But—"

"Just try it until it works," he said, and left her standing there.

She went back to her register; flipped the light on, logged in, started checking her first customer on autopilot.

And then she picked up the phone, pressed the button and spoke into it, voice shaking. "Jim to register 12, please. Jim to register 12. Thank you."

Miracle of miracles, it actually worked.

And the look on Jim's face when he came through the aisles, that smile just for her...

Made her feel something dangerous start to rise in her stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! First time writing Mary Ann :D

Melinda hurried into work the next day, itching for a glance at Jim, but she knew that it was unlikely that she'd ever see him today; that just didn't happen on a regular basis.

She exhaled, knowing that time was going to pass a lot slower now. Knowing that she'd done this before, gotten caught on a guy—like Kevin—and just let her life fade, let herself become distracted to the point of almost losing herself.

Well, with Kevin she'd seen what was happening before it did; she'd saved herself.

And this time, she'd be careful.

It was just a crush. She'd be fine. More than fine.

She'd been there for four hours; they were telling her to go on break and she felt her heart jolt, because now she had an excuse to run upstairs, to see if Jim was in the office.

She went to the stairs, feeling tense, feeling butterflies very active in her stomach, purse in hand, ready to go to the break room and just casually poke her head into the office; or even just squint through the blinds of the window.

She just wanted to know if he was even there. She didn't have to know anything more than that.

And he wasn't. The door was open and the room was empty; her heart leaped at the thought that maybe he was in the break room.

He wasn't.

She exhaled, sinking into one of the chairs. She had to let life here return to normal; it was just work, it was just a minimum wage job so that she didn't starve.

And she wasn't going to let it become permanent. She wasn't going to be that stupid.

* * *

Her feet were sore throughout the next week; she'd left her Skechers at her grandma's house an hour away and didn't have time to go drive and get them, so she'd been wearing other sneakers, something she regretted.

Mary Ann had told her to come by many times, even volunteering to drive the shoes to Melinda herself, but Melinda knew that Mary Ann was past the point where she could safely drive; and if Melinda was a better granddaughter she'd get her grandmother's license taken away but she was Mary Ann's granddaughter and Mary Ann never played by the rules.

Besides, since Mary Ann had given Melinda her own car for use, the only car she had to drive was an old Lincoln town car that had definitely seen better days and probably wouldn't survive the trip.

Melinda climbed out of the Jeep, patting its hood affectionately. Who was she kidding, the Jeep had seen better days too but it, at least, was definitely still driving. It had to.

Or she was definitely sunk.

"Grandma, I'm fine," she said, the phone pressed to her ear. "I can come this weekend to get the shoes, okay? I'm not working tomorrow morning and this time I'll actually get up. Now I'm walking into the store so please let me go."

"I'm worried, sweetheart," Mary Ann replied matter of factly. "And I'm not letting you go home yet; my clock says 1:55 and so that means your shift will start at 2. It's not 2 yet, Melinda. Now tell me more about this store manager."

Oh, god, she'd been so overwhelmed that day that she'd told Mary Ann about Jim helping with her paycheck and now Mary Ann wouldn't shut up about him; no matter how many times Melinda stressed how much older he was, and how inappropriate he was.

"Your grandfather was ten years older than me, you know," Mary Ann said saucily, as if reading Melinda's mind. "Yes, it can be inappropriate but you aren't underage and you definitely know your mind, darling. I trust you to know if he's a good man; and if he's smart, he'll see that you're a nice girl. He's single, isn't that what you said?"

"Not the point, grandma," Melinda said, lowering her voice as she entered the store, as if expecting Jim to be waiting right inside, but she'd barely even seen him that week. "And yes, it is inappropriate. Considering that I'm working for him."

"No, dear, you're working for Milton's," Mary Ann chuckled. "And he is too. There's nothing inappropriate about it."

"Grandma," Melinda repeated, trying for patience as she punched in. "Do you hear those beeps? I'm clocking in and Delia is giving me the eye; I need to get off."

"Just promise one thing to me," Mary Ann said.

"Sure," Melinda said.

"Speak to Jim today, if he's there," Mary Ann said. "Unprompted. Do it, Melinda. You promised, honey."

With that, her grandma hung up and Melinda gasped from how sneaky she could be. She should have expected this but she'd only been thinking that Mary Ann would make sure that she came to visit on Saturday.

She looked up, walking to the registers, to see what Delia wanted her doing, and, to her shock, to the detriment, probably, of her heart health from how it jumped, Jim was there, staring down at her; he surprised to see her turn to see him, and then he smiled, standing up and moving back to the office.

Oh. My god. Had he been watching for her?

She couldn't decide if that possibility would make this promise easier or harder to fulfil.

* * *

It was a high stress day, she could tell that in an instant. Because there was the busy that all cashiers thrived on, when there was never a break, and when you never stopped moving, never had to think.

And then there was just frantic. When the customers weren't just shopping, they were on a mission.

And if you, the cashier, got in their way, they would knock you down.

So many coupons. So much cash back. Way too many returned items when they saw the price. Way too many voids for Melinda; she was getting clumsy.

Plus she hit her hip on a corner of the register and damn it, she was actually sore there now; she had to have a bruise and when she went to the bathroom on her break she checked, and there it was, blue and tender to the touch.

Damn it.

She'd also bet that she'd missed Jim, and that made her feel more confident; she went to the break room and thanked the gods when her LaCroix was still in there, unopened. She cracked the can open and took a drink, feeling like she could breathe again, feeling a stiffness in her back that she hadn't in a while; she knew that she'd been working, distinctly remembering a cart full of soda she'd had to transfer herself, letting herself hurry too much and picking one up wrong.

Damn it.

She had definitely gained muscle while working this job, things she used to struggle with she didn't anymore but there were still moments, she was definitely regretting that.

She was pressing her hands to her lower back, trying to relieve some pressure, turning to go.

The office light was back on. It hadn't been on just a second ago.

She felt her breath catch; she found herself walking in, and Jim was there, wearing glasses and squinting at his computer screen; she had never seen him wear glasses before and the sight was so sexy she felt her heart skip another painful beat.

She could fall in love with this man. She could move beyond this weird obsession. It could seriously become something real if he let it.

If she let it.

"Melinda," he said, looking, not startled but not expecting her either.

"Thanks," she said. "For the other day."

At this point, it was more like the other week, or even last month, but she dismissed it, and there was a puzzled look on Jim's face that slowly wiped away; he was smiling, slow and sensual; a bit mocking, a bit seductive.

"You're welcome," Jim said, the smile still tugging at his lips. "Let me know if something like that happens again." He looked down at his desk as if dismissing her but then he was looking up at her again before she could even move. "And I've heard you a lot on the intercom; I guess you got over that."

"I did," she said, and she felt herself gravitating to one of the empty chairs, found herself sinking into it and now there were eye crinkles to join the smile on his lips; he was actually happy to see her here.

"Any more crazy customers?" He wondered, leaning back in his chair.

"I only get crazy ones," she enthused. "There was this lady who wanted to use a mushroom coupon for truffles. And it was a buy one, get one free thing and I just wanted to shriek because it was a fourteen dollar item."

"Did you give it to her?" Jim asked, lips still twitching.

"No, Tim came over and explained it to her before I had to," Melinda said. "Not that I needed him. I'm definitely gaining confidence; I realized that it's actually cashiers who wield the power when checking out, not the customers."

"Well, it's both," Jim corrected. "But I do agree."

"And I just had this ego boost yesterday," Melinda said, forgetting who she was talking to. "There was this guy who was definitely checking me out even though his girlfriend was a goddess with legs that went on forever and a figure to match."

She realized what she'd said, stopped talking, hoping Jim wouldn't think she was fishing for compliments; his eyes had darkened and he was pulling back a little.

"You have your own...assets," Jim finally said. "And beyond that, you're such a vivacious person, even if you weren't—" And then he just stopped, his cheeks slowly turning a dull red color.

"Weren't what?" Melinda asked, licking her lips.

The whole atmosphere just changed. Jim was staring at her, eyes caught by her, and then her phone buzzed; she checked the time and she only had a minute left on her break and she hadn't realized she'd been in here that long.

"I have to go, my break is over," Melinda whispered and left the room in a hurry, not looking behind her.

* * *

She wore her hair in a high ponytail the next day, the first time she had since she started.

She got so many second glances from the cashiers, so many compliments that she felt ready to laugh out loud; surely her neck wasn't that attractive or hidden.

And yet she was honestly getting more glances from customers too.

This was a good feeling.

All it had taken was putting her hair up. It was like living a hundred and fifty years ago, where putting one's hair up signalled adulthood.

It was like men were seeing her with new eyes. Even with that guy who'd checked her out.

Even with Jim.

Besides, he actually wasn't here today; she overheard Bob telling Delia.

She left the store in a high mood, knowing that she'd visit her grandmother the next day, knowing that she'd get her precious Skechers back and actually be able to walk the next week.

And Jim was entering the store, on his phone, looking rushed and like this was the last place on earth he'd expected to be tonight; was he wearing a tux?

Her breath caught and his eye caught hers, and there was just this moment, where an electric current seemed to pass between them, during which neither of them could look away, during which Melinda felt his eyes on every inch of her and she was returning the favor because damn it that suit looked amazing on him.

And then he was just smiling, a little stiffly, speedwalking into the store and up the stairs.

Melinda had to talk herself out of following.

She had to talk herself out of doing a lot of things that night.

But Jim would wait.

And she realized, as she got into bed that night, that this was most definitely the point of no return. In terms of feelings for Jim, she was so far gone it wasn't even funny.

* * *

Mary Ann was waiting the next day, with a box of fresh donuts on the counter; Melinda hesitated to ask how her grandma had gone about procuring those, but decided that it wasn't a stretch to think of her just asking a friend to drop some by.

Besides, they were fresh and they were all filled; Melinda's favorite and she bit into one, not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when it tasted so damn good.

"Be sure to not leave your shoes here this time," Mary Ann cautioned. "I'm still not sure how you even did it this time."

"I wasn't thinking," Melinda mumbled through a mouthful of donut. "And I brought sandals to change into because even my Skechers get constricting after so much work."

"It was after your shift, wasn't it?" Mary Ann tutted. "It's an honest job and I know you like it, but honestly, eight hours of standing."

"It's better than eight hours of sitting," Melinda said a little cheekily and Mary Ann mock glared at her; before she'd retired, she'd been a secretary with a lot of sitting down.

"There should be more periods of rest, smaller but spreadout," Mary Ann said. "In every job."

"That slows things down," Melinda said.

"What's wrong with slowing down?" Mary Ann said, throwing her hands up. "This world is too quick. Sit down and smell the blasted roses every once in a while!"

"As you and gramps did," Melinda commented and Mary Ann smiled, eyes going to a far off place.

"We had a knack for smelling the roses, yes," she agreed. "For getting into trouble because of it, even. But take that time, Melinda."

"I do," Melinda protested. "What do you think I'm doing right now?"

"Fetching your shoes, you know very well it would have been a month if you hadn't left them," Mary Ann scolded.

"Well, I get busy," Melinda defended.

"I know," Mary Ann sighed. "I'm just feeling old and missing you."

"I miss you too," Melinda murmured. "I was just thinking about how those summers with you were the best times I had growing up."

"Yes, well, your mother did try," Mary Ann said.

"And conveniently stopped trying when I turned eighteen and could fend for myself legally, because I was definitely fending for myself before then in pretty much every way."

"I talked to her this week," Mary Ann said gently. "She regrets it. Though it being Beth, she didn't actually say so, I just had to read between the lines."

"Yeah, well, I got tired of that a long time ago," Melinda said. "I got tired of trying to guess. Of guessing and guessing wrong. At least I had...have...you."

"You do," Mary Ann said and pulled her granddaughter close. "Did I ever tell you how me and gramps met?"

"Yeah, you were the secretary in the law firm he delivered papers to," Melinda said.

"Ah, but there was a bit more to it than that," Mary Ann said, eyes twinkling. "I thought he was cute but he'd never looked at me twice; then again, he was 28 and in a dead end job, so he didn't notice much. So one day...I took a chance."

"What did you do, grandma?" Melinda said, her tone scolding.

"I pretended I had to check for a run in my stocking," Mary Ann said, a grin on her face; a very naughty grin. "And I hitched up my skirt and then he just stopped and stared. You might not be able to tell it now, but I had very nice legs when I was eighteen."

"You're a terrible person," Melinda said, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, both pitying and envying her grandfather that she'd never met; Mary Ann was such a force of nature, he would have had no say in the matter.

But considering how happy they'd been, did it even matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering how many AUs I've had, a tad ashamed of the fact that this is the first time I've written the relationship between Mary Ann and Melinda with Mary Ann still alive.
> 
> Because she rocks :)


	3. Chapter 3

Her shift manager's name was Rick; he was maybe five years older than her. Sarcastic and sharp witted, Melinda was always surprised that he was able to be downright civil with customers.

Because he could certainly lay into employees when he wanted to.

"You should be scanning vegetables at 40%," he said, talking quickly. "I don't know why you aren't since we've had this conversation before."

"Codes are faster," Melinda protested lamely, knowing that he was in the right; he had talked to her before and for a while she'd been doing better, but produce just went by so much faster when she could just punch in the code.

"You do realize that you're cluttering up your mind with useless numbers, right?" Rick said.

"They're not useless, because when the produce doesn't have stickers, I still have to punch in the code and that goes faster if I remember it and don't have to look it up every time," Melinda sighed.

"Listen, I really don't care, right?" Rick said impatiently. "Like I truly don't. But the computer sees all and the computer wants checkers to scan 40% of produce. Initial here to agree that we had this conversation."

"Okay," Melinda said, putting MG on the paper.

"And now for the fun part," Rick said. "I want to offer you a promotion."

"What?" Melinda asked, eyes widening.

"Don't think it's so great," Rick said. "Nobody else wants it, so I'm trying the desperate people."

"Thanks," Melinda said, managing to stifle her smile, because Rick was just so damn Rick sometimes. And besides, desperation wasn't a bad quality.

"It's running the self checkouts from 5 a.m. to 3 p.m.," Rick said. "For the first few weeks, you'd be training with someone else." He met her gaze for a short moment, and then looked away as if he'd realized he'd startled both of them by making eye contact. "But it's a step. If you did well there, the next step would be supervisor. And it's a guaranteed 40 hour work week."

"Okay," Melinda said.

"Think about it," Rick said, but Melinda was shaking her head.

"No, I've thought about it," she said, a grin on her face. "I want it. Anything that gets me higher. When would I start?"

Rick was startled, and then he smiled in return, his gaze becoming softer. "Probably the week after next," he began. "You're so young, and yet you're eager for this, even though you could do so much more."

"Not everyone wants to reach for the stars," Melinda said simply. "And I personally like my job. Do I want to do it forever?" She shrugged. "Probably not. But I can definitely see myself doing this job until my student loans are paid off and that's going to be about a pretty long time so I think you're stuck with me."

Rick smiled. "Well," he said. "I think being stuck with you wouldn't be a bad thing at all."

Melinda blinked, wondering if he'd really said that, and then he was turning away, messing with his mouse. "Send in Andrea," he said matter-of-factly.

"Okay," Melinda said, wanting to do a little dance; it was a good day and she liked being recognized.

Maybe it was just retail but she was liking her job more. And being told that she could do well in a higher position, even if it was one that no one else wanted…

Well, that felt good.

* * *

She had Ariana Grande's Into You stuck in her head all the rest of that afternoon; she found herself mouthing the lyrics as she checked people out, more energized than she'd probably ever been on this job.

Because she felt good, honestly. She felt recognized and happy.

Besides, Ned was bagging, and he was one of the few who actually did a good job; who actually cared about what he was doing and wasn't just faking it until his shift was over.

It probably helped that Delia kept an eagle eye on her son to make sure that he was keeping busy.

Even if the high school girls who came through her line tried to flirt with him and therefore had to be asked three times if they had a rewards card with Milton's, Melinda dismissed it all, walking on air and letting herself be happy, not letting anything bring her down.

Even when her break was late.

She found herself glancing around the store at 7:56, aware that it was almost an hour. It was slowing; everything was still, no lanes had more than one customer in line.

Rick was talking to a customer; she could see him waving his hands and pointing out an item on the shelf, and she looked around to see if Delia was around to ask for a break.

"It's almost eight, I can't wait," Andrea enthused behind her, spraying her register down. "I'm off in four minutes and I have an actual, honest to god date, and this is going to be so fucking good."

"Language," Delia said idly as she walked past, not really caring but saying it anyway.

"Whatever," Andrea said a little guiltily once their manager was past, hurrying over to Melinda's checkout. "When are you off?"

"Eleven," Melinda said, and breathed out. "I haven't had a break yet. Which is fine because it was busy."

"It isn't busy now," Andrea said. "You should ask Delia. I have to get more bags, good luck."

She then took off for the stock room and Melinda idly took the next customer; an older man just buying ice cream and tampons.

She smiled at him, wondering if they were for his wife, sister, daughter...girlfriend. There were any number of possibilities but what she knew for sure was that they were lucky to have a guy who was confident enough to go out and buy tampons for them.

And the ice cream.

She grinned, wishing him a good night; Rick was done with his customer but now she couldn't see him anywhere and had an ominous feeling that he got off at eight too; would she get a break?

Because she didn't want to just leave and it definitely wasn't worth her job, but even on a good day, it was just wondering when you'd get a break that was the problem. She didn't mind waiting.

She just wanted to know that she hadn't been forgotten. That it would happen.

Besides, she'd actually brought a healthy dinner today after that conversation with Jim and wanted to go up to the break room to heat it up.

She drummed her fingers on the register, watching as customers flitted through the store; one was coming towards the front but they ended up at Gina's lane, and Melinda grabbed one foot, stretching it up towards her, feeling tired.

It was funny how the best day could end like this, in boredom and stress, she thought, feeling her buzz gradually fade, trying to cling to it, but recognizing it for what it was: retail. Which was pretty much synonymous with sore feet, long, unpredictable hours and customer service.

Customer service meaning falling all over yourself to reassure a customer that their goddamn peach tea would be back in stock next week when the truck came.

She puffed out a breath, taking the ponytail from around her wrist, shaking her hair out, tilting her head back and pulling it into a high ponytail, baring her neck, suddenly feeling eyes on her.

It was like every male customer currently in the store had stopped to watch.

She felt distinctly uncomfortable, seeing Ned walk past her. "You leaving?" She asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "School night, big test tomorrow. Have a good night."

"You too," she replied, rebagging; taking another customer, a bigger order with lots of produce and that kept her occupied for a few minutes and then it was just dead again, and she was looking around her, contemplating paging Rick but Warren was walking past and shook his head when she picked up the phone.

"Rick's gone," he said. "Hot date or some crap like that."

Rick dated?

She felt bad that it was such a shock, but then walked to the office, doublechecking; his bag was gone and she found herself fishing her cell phone out of her purse, texting Mary Ann as she walked back to her register. Long night ahead. The place is dead.

I'm watching the original Dracula. I do quite like Bela Lugosi.

Of course she had.

I wish I was there.

Another thing that she and Mary Ann shared: an unhealthy love of old horror movies. Melinda was happy with the ones from the fifties on through the nineties, but Mary Ann's true loves were the ones before 1956, the year that her precious Bela passed away.

She liked the ones from the thirties, with crackling sound and jumping video no matter how remastered they were.

Melinda slid her phone into her back pocket, finally gave up and picked up her phone. "Manager to register 12, please, manager to register 12."

She had no idea who she'd get; Bob and Daniel might be there but who could be sure?

She was still new enough that she just didn't know sometimes.

She stretched, waiting, only for five minutes to pass without anyone showing up.

Customers came; customers went.

She paged a manager again, this time when a customer needed a price check and still one didn't come, and the customer left in a mild huff, not taking the item after all because Melinda couldn't figure out how to please them.

And then she was done, logging out of the computer and leaving her register, looking at the clock and vowing to return in half an hour, bounding up the stairs and not watching where she was going because she was just pissed now, and she crashed right into someone at the top.

Someone tall. Someone hard.

Someone who reached out and grabbed hold of her before she toppled down the stairs, holding tight; almost too tight in the panicked moment they both thought she was going to fall and then she was on steady ground, and it was Jim, staring at her, eyes wide.

"You were paging and no one was coming," he commented.

"Yes," she said. "My break is almost two hours late and I left my register without getting an okay from a manager because I'm hungry and need to eat."

"Again," Jim said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry."

"It's not just me," she said. "Not usually. Though I did notice that Gina, who gets off the same time that I do, was sent on her break on time and they just forgot about me."

"I'm sorry," Jim repeated.

"I know," Melinda said. "But so what?"

His hands fell away from her arms, and he stepped back, letting her pass on her way to the break room, where she grabbed her dinner from the fridge and put it into the microwave.

She felt him watching her, realizing that he'd followed her into the room. "It's just that my day was going really well and then it wasn't," she said, stress in her voice. "Don't worry about it, seriously. I'm fine. I'll be fine."

She jerked open the microwave and took the bowl out; he was still just standing there, looking at her. He moved forward, and her hands shook; she dropped the bowl on the counter and it was wobbling, she shoved it with one hand and it stabilized.

"Everyone has bad days," Melinda said, voice shaking.

"Yeah, but usually I don't care this much about making it better," Jim said. "I don't...want to lose you. You're a good worker."

He was slowly drifting closer. "And you have a gorgeous smile," he breathed, and then he just stopped. "Let me know if I can do anything to help," he finished, smile fading, eyes so blue, burning into her, and she swallowed.

"I will," she said.

"My extension in the store is 011," he said. "Next time you don't get your break on time, just call me directly."

"Um, okay," she said, her voice dropping.

He was turning away, all business, getting ready to leave and she was following him, her feet carrying her forward.

She truly wanted to reach out and touch his arm, stop him, tell him she wasn't mad at him.

Even though the rational part of her brain knew perfectly well that of course he was smart enough to know that it was just an off day for her.

Why didn't he ever see her in her good moments?

"I'm not actually emotionally unstable," she said. "I know it seems like I am because that's the only time you ever see me but I usually have very good days here."

"I know," Jim said, pausing. "Believe me, I know. Everyone likes you."

"Everyone?" She breathed out.

His hands were at his sides, and she could see him fighting something, turning away from her again, but she...she truly wanted this.

It was real.

And she didn't care if it was inappropriate.

As her grandmother said, there was nothing wrong with showing a little leg.

Or a little emotion.

She stepped forward, and they were so close together now. She could feel him gazing at her, leaning down, and she was reaching her arms out.

Was she really about to let herself do this?

Her grandmother would be pleased if she did.


End file.
